Domino effect

I've never imagined my life could change so much, and so rapidly.

These past few weeks seemed to be a domino effect.

Frightening at first, but when every thing finishes falling, it makes a beautiful bigger picture.

And New York City is what started everything.

\

New York was nothing like I thought it would be.

It was crowded yes, but never as chaotic and it seemed.

Every street is different, but they all have the same feel, if that makes sense.

One of the countless things I loved about NY, is that everyone is so focused, and determined.

They are so focused on themselves, and that sounds bad, but I don't mean it that way.

For me, it made me think, what do I need to be focusing on?

What should I be so determined about?

I cannot explain how I felt when I first saw you.

Maybe I shouldn't try.

Because it's one of the most sacred, raw, and emotional moments I've ever been through.

And even if I could find the words to describe what I felt, I don't feel like they would do it justice.

Being there, though. Felt right.

I was in one of the most amazing cities in the world, and I was there with my best friend.

I soon learned how you went about your days, and met the people in your every day life.

It made me happy to see that you've made a life out there.

I didn't expect anything less from you, but seeing it in person was breathtaking.

For the past few months, I felt you move away from me.
In your heart, and in your mind.
This trip showed me where they were.
They are in your dreams, in your goals, in your passion, in your work.
They are in your music. 
You are so focused, so one-track minded with what you want.
If I didn't find it so brilliant and admirable, I'd find it irritating.
You have made me realize, that in order to get what you want in life, you have to be obsessed. Completely. You have to emerge yourself in it totally.
And that's what you have done. 
People will see your passion, and dedication- and you will get the things you want out of life. 

This trip made me realize how much I am going to miss you over the passing months.

But being apart will give us time to figure out who we are.
We'll have new stories to tell, new scars to show, and new songs to hum to one another.
And it will teach me how to rely on myself rather than on you.
Which will be interesting after being so dependent on you for so long.

It's only been a week and everything already seems so different, and so strange. 

Hospital Daze

I practically grew up in a hospital. I wasn't sick ever, no. But because that's what I did with my dad, that's where he worked.
While my did his rounds on the graveyard shift.

I'd get to stay up late, roll around in wheel chairs, and not only had the password for the break room, but also a endless supply of juice.
Hospitals have never made me worried or scared.
Sometimes, late at night, if I couldn't sleep, and knew the patient was awake, and my dad had already introduced me to them, I'd sit next to their bed, and just be.
Some would tell me what happened to them, some would smile and we would enjoy the long silences between us. Sometimes we'd watch television.

But it was a hospital, it wasn't always pretty.
 I would see blood, I heard people cry, I heard the stories, I saw scars and wounds.
But it never phased me for some reason, I always knew things would be okay.
My dad was down the hall, and they had big selection of juice and milk flavors.
Things would be okay.

 My point is, I've ever been scared to walk into a hospital, I've never been restless or worried.
If anything, it was comfortable for me.
I could tell you where they keep the warm blankets. I could tell you the colors the hospital socks come in.
The first time I've ever been scared in a hospital, was  December 9, 2011.
The day of your first arm surgery.
I didn't get to see you before you went into the operating room, and that killed me.
I sat in the waiting room for five hours. Trying to eat the snacks I'd packed the night before, trying to work on  finishing one of the many books that needs finishing, talking to your mother and trying not cry like the complete wuss that I am.
That waiting room was so uncomfortable. I kept looking at the screen to see if your surgery status had changed at all, and for five hours, it hardly changed.

The doctor finally came out, and told us how everything went.
He told us we could go up to the room.

So, we grabbed our things. And yours.
Unfortunately, you have no idea how to pack light.
So, the trip upstairs wasn't exactly easy on the arms.
So, we get to the room.
Me and your mother. And it's empty.
You hadn't come up from recovery yet.
So again, we waited. Probably for another forty minutes.
You finally came in. I let your mom rush to you first. I didn't want to intrude.
I was surprised, because shortly after, you asked " Is Paige here?"
"I am here, Jared." I said loudly enough for you to look in my general direction. I walked over to you, swept your hair back and kissed your forehead.
"Hi", I said.
I always seem to do that, whenever I am nervous or excited about something, the only thing that seems to come out is 'hi'.
I am sorry you got involved with girl who has the vocabulary of a kindergartner.

 I was so happy to see you, though. You looked tired and your medicine was starting to wear off.
 I sat in the chair closest to your bed, and moved it even closer.
Your mom left, and so it was just you and I.
It was a little bit of a silent room, because of how much you were sleeping. So, I tried to read my book.
But, mostly I paced around the room, fiddled with my journal and camera, and dealt with the nurses.

It was okay that you slept so much, not only were you healing, but it also gave me some time to take a few photos.

Every time you woke up throughout the day you would say I love you.
It was cute, and drug educed.
Drugs- the doorway to romance.

Your parents and I talked, and decided I'd stay the night with you there, at the hospital.
 I wouldn't have had it any other way. Your parents were kind enough to bring me dinner.
And you were kind enough to say awake for about two minutes for their visit.

Towards the late night hours, you were up, talking to me.
Scratch that. I was talking to you.
But, your eyes were open and you responded, usually.
I tried to get you to eat something, so you wouldn't feel as nauseated from all the medication.
I got a fig nugget, two saltines, and half of the Clementine I was enjoying, in you.
There was one point in the night, where I asked you what we were going to do, when you left to New York, and you looked at me with your squinty eyes and said " I am going to throw up."
I grabbed a bucket, and you did, in fact throw up.
I know. I am the worst for bringing that up- but in my defense, you seemed coherent.
And then you had to be all dramatic, and throw up to avoid the entire subject.

The night was long, and filled with multiple nurses.
Almost every single one would ask me if I was your wife.
I would tell them no, in hopes they would drop the subject entirely, but they would ask ' Are you his girlfriend?'
I would tell them yes, in hopes they would drop the subject entirely, but then some would say ' You must care about him a lot. Girlfriends hardly stay over'
Which, just made me said for humanity entirely.
You can have just as much feelings for someone being their girlfriend, as you would being their wife. If anything, wife's don't like you as much.
Because when you're married, you're allowed to hate the other person.

So anyway, it was around one a.m. when I tried to go to bed. After a few hours in the recliner chair, and having to move away from your bed for the nurses, only to move it back when they were done.
You looked at me and said to come lay next to you.

I knew you loved me before this.
But that moment, was when it really set in for me.
You shared your hospital bed with me. I'll never forget that moment.
I crawled in next to you, as we arranged the blankets in a manner that would keep us both covered.
And we slept.

Or tried to, at least.
I would jolt up random times in the night, just to make sure you were okay.
I had to move out of the bed around seven, because the nurses had to get to you, and I was in the way, again.
That whole next day was long for both of us.
You didn't want to go home, you hardly ate anything, and you felt awful.
The only time I left was to go to the store to get you things you might want later on
 (Don't worry, I left you with water by your side, and 30 Rock on your laptop.)
After having the worst experience at the store, I had finally gotten mini Coke bottles, Wheat Thins, and Go-Gurt. I rushed back in the hospital. I was so relieved to see you hardly moved since I left you. I asked you if you wanted anything I got for you and you told me no.
Le sigh

There is so much more of this I could be writing about.
But I am going to stop early, and end this by saying.
Even when you don't make sense, and you are practically a veggie. I still like you.

New York City

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever.
Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.

Writing

Some things are hard to write about after something happens to you.
You go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts, or ignore the important ones.
At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.

Maybe

I think maybe we’re all interconnected by some weird thing that sleeps inside of us.
I’m trying to decide if it’s sad or not.
I think a lot of soul mates part ways and they can still be soul mates because they’re interconnected. There have been so many love stories where two people weren’t or couldn’t be together but they were still meant for each other and their stories weren’t any less passionate.
I want to believe in the idea that two people in love would stay together forever but I don’t think that’s always the case.

And I really wish it were the case.

Illustrations

Missing You

I miss you.

Whoever said it gets easier, lied.

Missing somebody, never gets easier, unless of course, you happen to reunite with them. 

But not being with someone you care about, is never easy.

Sure, there are days where you can bare it, where the pain doesn't get to you as deeply, when your mind doesn't feel like thinking, let alone feeling. 

These days happen, because you almost become use to the pain of it all. 

These days, you almost become numb, in a way. As numb as one can get while still caring.

But most days are hard. 

Especially the longer you go without the person.

You slowly forget what it felt like to have them hold you. 

You try harder each day to hold on to the vague memory of how they smell.

You can't seem to remember exactly how their heartbeat went. Was it two counts, or three?

And losing the things that use to be your only constant familiarity isn't the only hard part.

It's also the days where everything goes wrong.

You spill your morning coffee, your shirt fits funny, your hair won't stay in place, your too hot, or too cold.

These are the days where you know the only thing that will help you, is him.

He is the only thing that will make you forget that your shirt is stupid, and your hair is a mess, he would be there to warm you up, or cool you down.

And the most frustrating thing is, that you know he wants to be with you. 

He just can't right now.

It would almost be easier if he didn't want you, that way, you could hate them.

Things would be much easier if you could hate him.

But, you can't. He's done nothing wrong.

How irritating. 

This guy, you have lived without your entire life, until these past few years.

And then you meet, and he likes your leather jacket, he makes you a playlist you'll never forget, teaches you how to play poker, lays with you in bed while the blue grey morning arrives. 

And you're hooked.

Now, your life doesn't seem normal, when they aren't in it constantly. 

You don't feel normal, when they aren't in it.

Missing you hasn't gotten easier.

I constantly try to distract myself. 

Books, television, running, walks, nightly hikes, pictures, drawing, writing, music.

Anything to get my mind off of you. 

But no matter how good my day has gone, or how distracted my thoughts have been.

Once I shut off all the lights, lay in bed, and I am alone with my thoughts. 

And there you are again.

Racing through my mind.

Through fading memories, through our daily conversations, or lack there of.

You are there, racing, until I fall asleep.

Knowing I'll see you soon helps, though.

Even if it's only for a measly ten days.

Actually, it's one of the biggest reasons I get up in the morning.

One more day down, the closer I am to you.

Beautiful and the Ugly

You know, my childhood wasn't the easiest thing, or the best for that matter.
But being a kid, I thought everything was perfect and beautiful.
Even the ugly things.
The flat tires, and lost puzzle pieces.
I still thought they were perfect, and beautiful.

The trouble, for me, about growing older, is that the beautiful things become more beautiful, and the ugly things become uglier.
And sometimes, finding out what is which, can be rather heart breaking.

The awareness I was missing as a child, really gets to me as an adult.
The beautiful and the ugly make me cry, equally.

As an adult, I realize there is sadness in both the beautiful and the ugly.
I am more aware that there a lot of things in common, with the beautiful and the ugly.
Too many things in common, maybe.

Too Much

 It's the scariest thing to realize how much someone means to you.
When it hits you, I mean, really hits you, all these thoughts and questions rush through your head.
A sad emotion starts to creep on you, sometimes, as your mind starts to race in thought, late at night.
What if for some reason things don't work out?
How are you possibly going to live without them in your life?
Someone you once had lived without, you now wish to hold onto for the rest of your days.

Sometimes, it's all a little too much to handle. How much a person means to you.
If you think about any form of love, and the moments their love hits you, for too long, or too deeply, it's a little too much to handle.
The form of a father figure, eating midnight snacks with you because neither of you could sleep, or him taking you to parks on spring Saturday mornings with paint, and a brand new canvas, just for you.
The form of a grandmother telling you about her garden, as you walk through it together, slowly touching every plant beside you, or a Grandfather who knows your days been rough, and says 'take a seat', and you finish the puzzle laid out, without saying a word.
The form of a little sister, helping wrap blankets around you after you crawl in her bed, crying.
The form of you, sharing your hospital bed with me, so I could get some sleep.

These are some of the moments I think about when I think about love.
There are some, too sacred to mention.
But all are the same.
They are real love.

And sometimes, real love is terrifying.

End Results

I haven't been writing lately. I am not sure if it's because I have no idea how to put my feeling into words, or that I have too much to say at one given moment, and the page turns up blank.

So, I am going to try and write as best I can, for how much I am forcing this entry.

I'd like to first of start by saying, I didn't know it was possible to have such deep nostalgia for a place I've never been to.

 For streets I've never walked down, and lights out side the window I've never looked out of.
Will I always have nostalgia, melancholia, of a place you are at without me?
Is that how souls work?
Once connected to another, do they always notice, or particularly, point out the absence of the other?


And another thing- I have a hard time saying soul. I think, there are so many, too many, definitions of what a soul can be.
For me, I always wobble on a accurate definition for myself.
But right now, the best I can explain a soul, would be a energy, almost like your most natural state of nature.
When I think of souls..
I think of light, which I can only can describe as white Christmas lights-when you look at them from really far away, and it almost consumes the entire house, or tree, with that pure, glob of creamy crystal light.
 I think of truth in it's purest form. Knowing someone, or something for exactly who, or what they are, and accepting that.
I think of being five years old, and running as fast as I can, and then, I swear on my favorite Bewitched tin lunch box that the wind helped pick me up.
I think of that wind. The wind that first taught me the feeling of flying.
So, my Christmas tree glob soul connected to yours.
How wonderful, since you are, 2215 miles away from me.

Secondly:
I lay in bed and think to myself.
If this stops. What in the hell am I going to do.
If this keeps going. What in the hell am I going to do.
I guess since I don't have some five year plan, everyone around me thinks I am sort of failure.
Because I have no idea what I want to do with my life. And, maybe, that makes me one.

There are only two things I know I want, and need.

The first thing is that, I want a beautiful life.
I want files, books and frames full of pictures from my life. Of anything, of everything.
My favorite spots in Utah, the people I meet at bus stations, faces you make, things that are so strange that always make you think for a little while.
I want journals full of entries and drawings of my young restless mind, about music, cinema and you.
I want my life to be filled with passion and long conversations.
I want to build a home that every wall and every corner, is the essence of  me and my life.
I want plants on the window seals, and drawings on the wall, books on the ground, a bed that smells like you, and has eight pillows.
I want to inspire others with my ideas, be it my photos, doodles, or words.
I want collections of lace ribbons, pins and buttons, and vintage spoon rings.
These things sound beautiful to me.

The second thing, is you. I know I want you.
I want you in my life, for always.
I want you at your best, and your worst.
I want your grumpy mornings, and lunch break phone calls.
I want your loud music at inconvenient hours, and you singing in the shower.

So, I'd lay there and wonder how in the world can I make a life plan with only two things.
And then I thought, maybe I only have two things, because they are suppose to combine with the numbers of your life plan.
Maybe.


It was February 29th  when you told me you wanted to live with me.
I thought you were joking, or just saying a want that you never planned on going through.
But no. You meant it.

I couldn't believe it. I still don't, sometimes.
Like, get real, kid.
My cooking is not that good.

I have this thing, it's like, a disease, where whenever something life changing happens to me, I always fast forward and think of the end result.
It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the day by day.
But the end result consumes my mind late at night, or in moments of frustration and panic.
And that's not a bad thing, but it's probably not a good thing either.


So, after you saying you want to live with me, after my first reactions of joy, excitement, and mental planning.
I start focusing on the end result.
Anyone who moves in together, winds up broken up, or married- right?
(That's my end result talking.)
Then it hit me.

We don't have to live by normal views of society.
We could live together for forty years without marrying each other.
We could break up, but still want to live together, as the best friends I know we are.
We could live together and get married in twenty five years.
We could break up, only to have me move down a few blocks away from you, and we'd have lunch, occasionally.

The point is- I am ignoring my end result thinking.
Because even if this never ends, or ends.
Right now, and for a lot of years after that, living with you, creating a life together, is everything I want.

I love you, best friend. I can't wait to see you.

P.S.
I forgot apple cores have star shapes in them. What a pleasant reminder.

My twenty-first day without You

A lot of people, and things from my past keep showing up.
None of them are bad. But, I feel like it's the world, showing my different paths I could go down. Different roads, I guess? I sound insane.
But each different path, just reminds me of how much I want to be on a road with you.

My twenth day without You

I am lucky to have you in my life.

Even though you are miles away.

I am lucky to know you.

Sometimes, I take that for granted. I always want or ask for more. 

But seeing your face and hearing your voice over skype is always the highlight of my day, or week.

I  am lucky.

My nineteenth day without You:

I keep waking up from nightmares only to find that I bite my lips in my sleep.

My seventeenth day without You:

Things go wrong.
Things don't last.
People lose each other.
Forever, is irrelevant.

My sixteenth day without You:

How do you do that?
Act like you don't care, like you don't feel anything?

Because I can't do that.
I feel.
I feel everything.

My fifteenth day without You:

I've been looking through my old writings today, and I found short story I wrote called ' N '.

This is from the last page:

It doesn't matter, really. 

No matter who she heard it from.

No matter where she saw it.

Every time it was him, her heart running back to him.

She never did anything about it.

She never made it known.

She wouldn't even notice if  it wasn't for the aching pain it left behind.

And it did. Every.Single.Time.

She soon learned that holding her breath made the pain ease. 

And so she did.

She held her breath.

My fourteenth day without You

Sometimes, I get so frustrated, so worked up.
 And then, moments later, I don't even know what made me so worked up in the first place.
So then I have to calm myself down, step by step.
That's why I need you.
Even when you drive me mad, you always seem to put my mind in the right place, you calm me down, even when you're the reason I am upset in the first place.
I hate/love you for that.

My twelfth day without You

"He always lived in his head. He never cared about how things were, only how the would be, someday, when he had everything he wanted."

My ninth day without You

I've never had to deal with death.

I've never had to hold something until it's last breath.

I've never been around anything, only to see them stop fighting for their lives.

And I was lucky, that way. I was, and still am, ignorant on death and loss.

But, on Thursday night. I held my new puppy- all night. And at four in the morning. She stopped fighting, and I felt her leave. And, I've never experienced anything that surreal, painful, and scary.

Besides you leaving, of course.

R.I.P. Dixie Rose

My seventh day without You

“There are certain emotions in your body that not even your best friend can sympathize with, 
but you will find the right film or the right book , and it will understand you . “- Bjork

My sixth day without You:

I love that moment.

The moment where you're doing nothing significant really-

Making coffee, on your way home from some place, lighting a candle, cutting out shapes from paper.

And you realize, that things can be okay. 

Things might be okay.

All the negative thoughts are ignored.

And troubles, and stress.

And you're left with, even just for a moment, of pure calm. 

And it's in these moments, I like to think they happen, because, right then, you're thinking of me too.

My fifth day without You

This song reminds me of us sitting on the air bed across from one another, eating cherry blow pops, looking at each other, and not saying a word.

My fourth day without You

There are some conversations that are too sad to write about, too melancholic to even mention, and some that are best forgotten.

My third day without You

The second hardest thing I've ever had to do, would be trying to explain my broken heart to a 4 year old. 

Aunt: Oh, sweetie, just leave her be, she doesn't feel good.

4 year old: What's wrong?

Aunt: Her heart is broken. 

The four year old walks up to me and asks " How'd you break your heart?"

Me: It's a long story, darlin', and not worth getting into. 

4 year old: What does it feel like?

Me: It hurts, kind of like when you fall of the swings.

4 year old: I always get bruises. Do you have a bruise?

Me: Yeah, but you can't see it. 

4 year old: Did you put a band-aid on it?

Me: I am trying, it just won't stick on.

4 year old: I am sorry you broke your heart. Just hold on real tight to the swings next time.

Let's get you another band-aid. 

Sadly, I think it was the holding tight that got me here in the first place.

My second day without You

I am starting to think my mother was right. Everyone leaves and gets on with their lives, and I am just stuck, alone.
You get to immerse yourself in a new city, job, and people.
I am just here, trying keep busy by cleaning everything imaginable, and wondering if you're thinking of me.

I wish you were here to talk to me.
I also wish I could take off your Mates Of State shirt, but I can't seem to bring myself to.

My first day without You

It's been different, with you gone, even for twenty four hours. Everything seems to move slower.

The flowers you gave me have smelled up my entire room, and it makes it easier to sleep.
.

A week is such a long time to be away from home, and it's nice to be back.
It's the only thing keeping me semi-sane, to be in the room, that's the color of your jacket.
I'll just pretend I live in small room, in the pocket of your jacket.
 Like a genie, with no powers, and a lot of books.

(The favorite)

My last day with You

Your flight for New York City left thirteen minutes ago. This all came too soon.

Today, I've been on that thin line of emotions, because this is the day, that you left me.

I woke up, against my body's desire to sleep, drove to your house, and walked up to your room.

 Your door was open, that was weird. 

I took my shoes off before I entered, so I wouldn't wake you up, I got so close to just sneaking in your bed unnoticed, until I put my keys down. Your eyes cracked open, and you smiled. I smiled back, and you held up the covers so I could get in. 

You're the best that way. You love sleeping. 

We didn't say anything, for awhile. Which never really happens. I am always yapping. But today, this was it. 

Our last lazy morning together, and I wanted to bask a little bit longer- and not have it be ruined by my pointless words.

Today,though, was full of a lot of goodbyes, and we had to get a move on. 

As you got up and showered, I just lay in your bed. Trying to pause time with my mind, and trying to make sure I got every detail of your room, so on rainy days, I could remember it just right.

A few hugs and a shaved beard later- we were off. 

Our last trip to Tooele together.
You've always loved the drive, and next to you, it's the place I call home.
The weather was over cast and rainy, and although you wanted it to be sunny, I felt comforted that the weather felt just like me today.
When we got there, the house was empty. It's never empty. 

But, it was a perfect chance to give you the gift I've been wanting to for awhile.

 And although you opened it, and seemed happy. 

I always feel so sappy and stupid with the gifts I give you. 

And, while making us some Top Ramen, I started crying, and you had me dance with you, just to make me stop.
The family came, and amazingly enough didn't say a word about "you making a mistake about leaving me behind", and I was glad it didn't stress you out. 

They love you, just like they love me, and it makes me swell with happiness, that you are already family to them.

On the drive back home, we tried to go and see the big rock out by the Great Salt Lake, but I couldn't seem to find the way to it, so, after driving on back roads, and pulling in view areas, and taking pictures the entire time, we decided we should just head back home instead. 

Time seemed to be going by so quickly. 

When we got to your house, we sat in the car awhile and talked, while I kept crying on and off. I was trying to be so good, at this whole not crying thing. 

I am sorry I am such a baby. I blame genetics, really.
We went inside, and you got your hair cut. 

I got teary eyed at the start, but I put in a lemon mamba, and pulled through. 

Mostly because I think you're so handsome with short hair. 

You look so proper, like, you should wear a tux every day.
So, after your thrilling hair cut, we rushed to your grandparents house for dinner. 

And the meal, was practically all vegetables, and I couldn't have been more thrilled.
 I think your grandparents are the best.
They have the best stories, and such a cute sense of humor. 

I hope, if I ever grow old with you, or anyone, that I can turn out half as good as your grandparents.  

After dinner, we headed back to your house, it was 7pm now, and things had to be done.

 So after checking all of the luggage weight, and putting in odds and ends, you asked me to go down stairs with you. It was the last time, I'd be in that room with you.  

You haven't ever felt the need to decorate your room, and I think it's funny that you have all the loose ends from everyone else's decorating.

And, we talked, and said the things that were on our minds, and I cried more. And you brought in some flowers, candy, and a letter for me. 

(I knew you were being funny when you asked what my favorite candy was..)
But, even still, I was so happy, you, and your family are so sweet. I probably didn't express it enough, but it meant the world to me.

I gave you my letter shortly after words, and that was the first time I felt comfortable having someone open, or read things I give them in front of me.  

After awhile, we went back up stairs, and spent your last hour with your parents, brother and sister. 

Your whole family is funny, and I always feel so comfortable around them.

We packed the bags in the cars, and headed to the airport. 

That car ride was hard, and mostly silent until we started reaching the airport.

 I started panicking. 

Of course, leave it to me. 

This was it. 

Where everything stops. Where my heart races, and my minds pounding.

After getting everything out of the car, we hugged, and kissed, and said the things we thought we should.

I helped you bring the bags into the security, and waiting in line, I had to go.

 I hugged you tightly, and had to force myself to let go.

 This whole thing was probably so awkward for the workers, and your sister.

 Poor Sara. 

So, I let go, and you told me 'Good Luck' and I smiled, because, you need the luck right now, not me.

As I walk away, your hand slips from mine. That might have been the hardest thing to do, walk away from you. As I walk, my heart is pounding, and I tried to focus on the people around me. Ear buds in, walking fast.

I cave, and look back to you. You're in line, moving forward, with that massive carry-on.

I get to the sliding doors and take a quick, last look at you. You were at the front now, and half of you was blocked by a pillar. My sight becomes blurry, and brush the tears off. I wondered if you looked back for me, at all. And I walk through the doors, into the crisp, bitter night.

On the car drive home, I was okay. The sound track was perfect, with no crying, or crashing.

It was when I got to a stop light, I lost it. 

It was all setting in. 

And the chances of you running back for me, to me,changing your mind, were completely gone. 

Once I got home, I sat in the car and starred at the flowers you had given me.
You've never given me real flowers before.

And the street light made it seem like they were planted just for me. 

For this day.

When I went inside, and got into bed, I cried, and I fought even harder not to cry.

 But while I was falling asleep, a thought came into my head, that made tears stop, and my eyes shut. 

The thought was ' It was all real.'

I made this blog for you, to make the miles seem shorter, if you need.
I love you, kid.